How You Know
by BimboBoop
Summary: Ten ways to know if your girlfriend and best friend are into each other. Series of pre-show scenes that should have warned Nate that there was an attraction between Chuck and Blair, including lots of friendly banter between the two. Hints of N and S.
1. Chapter 1

_Ten Ways To Know If Your Girlfriend and Best Friend Are Into Each Other_

If they're number one on each other's speed dial, it's a safe bet your girlfriend and best friend are into each other.

Blair, Nate and Chuck were hanging out one day in sophomore year, a few months after Serena's mysterious disappearance from the Upper East Side.

Chuck and Blair were discussing the merits of some book, _Les Liaisons Dangereuse_, that they had both read (Blair in the original French) and Nate hadn't.

Nate was amusing himself by going through Blair's cell phone, chuckling over the text messages from her minions. They read things like "EMERGENCY! Only shoes I can find to match Marc Jacobs dress are two seasons old! – Kati" and "Hazel let her stepsister dye her hair white blonde after we told her not to. I think she should be summoned for a disciplinary hearing. – Penelope".

After Nate had finished examining dozens of similar messages, he turned back to Chuck and Blair only to discover that they had now moved on to dissecting the book's various film adaptations. The only one that Nate remembered seeing was _Cruel Intentions_, which he had been dragged along to by Blair, Chuck and Serena. And he could hardly discuss that movie in depth seeing as he had fallen asleep during it, only waking up when Serena started sobbing on his shoulder over Ryan Phillipe's death at the film's conclusion.

Chuck had smirked and declared that Phillipe deserved to die for choosing Annette over the much hotter Catherine, questioning who'd want a soppy, sentimental blonde when they could have a smokingly sexy brunette. Blair had given him a sly glance and said something about a true queen's indiscretions never being found out the way Catherine's were.

It had all pretty much sailed over Nate's head at the time as he patted Serena's shoulder comfortingly.

Nate turned away from his girlfriend and best friend with a sigh and moved on to perusing Blair's speed dial. He stared blankly as he realised the name occupying the number one position was not his own.

"Hey, Blair," Nate interrupted her as she laughed over something Chuck had said, "Who's 'the Comte' and why is he number one on your speed dial?"

Blair coloured slightly and Chuck twisted his head away from Nate to hide his amused grin.

"Oh, the Comte is a character from the book. I gave the title to Chuck as a nickname after he bought me an original copy from France. It seemed appropriate, given the character's deviousness and aptitude for scheming," Blair shrugged with seeming unconcern, sending a bright smile in Nate's direction.

"Not to mention that like me the Comte enjoys stunning success with women," Chuck drawled suggestively, earning a quick glare from Blair.

"But why's Chuck number one on your speed dial?" Nate pressed. "Serena says that number one should be your significant other, followed by best friend, parents and then other friends or emergency contacts." He had made sure his phone was ordered thus after Serena had explained this to him.

"Oh well if Saint Serena said so," Blair responded grumpily, her face taking on a look of annoyance as she thought about the best friend who had abandoned her without a word months earlier but who her boyfriend still couldn't seem to shut up about.

Chuck snickered at her tone and Nate's wounded, slightly shamed expression.

"But if you must know I believe in ordering numbers according to who you would call in a dire emergency," Blair continued. "Number one should therefore be whoever you trust enough to help you bury the body," she concluded darkly.

Nate wondered if he should be offended that Blair didn't trust _him_ enough to direct such calls to his way. Probably not, seeing as he wouldn't be all that keen to receive them. Indeed lately he ignored her about half the time her name popped up on his cell's screen.

And Chuck Bass was a rational choice if you were looking for someone to call in a crisis. He did have by far the most experience in getting himself and his friends out of trouble.

Nate nodded at Blair. "Oh. Makes sense," he replied dully, even though he still preferred Serena's method of organizing a speed dial.

He once more turned away from his girlfriend and best friend so that they could yet again continue a conversation from which he was excluded. But his ears still managed to catch Chuck's next words, despite the low tone in which they were muttered.

"As it happens, Waldorf, you're number one on my speed dial too," Chuck told her, turning to Blair with a gleam in his eye. "I thought you might want to know, in case you needed to stock up on garbage bags, leather gloves, shovels or any of your other standard body-burying gear."

"Any time, Bass," Blair giggled.

For some reason the sound made Nate's heart thump oddly in his chest.

_So if you like this please review and maybe offer me some inspiration about other ways to know if your significant other and best friend are into each other, especially if it is based on real experiences._


	2. Chapter 2

_Ten Ways To Know If Your Girlfriend and Best Friend Are Into Each Other_

Your girlfriend and best friend are probably into each other if they have a regular 'date' night without you.

Nate gets curious when he realises that he can never get hold of either Chuck or Blair on Monday nights between seven and nine-thirty.

He confronts them about it and they both act mysterious and evasive, each offering different versions of the disingenuous-sounding response 'nothing in particular' when he asks them point-blank what they do on Monday nights.

Nate sulks for a week, giving the silent treatment to both of them, even though it isn't like Chuck and Blair haven't shared secrets with each other that they've kept from him before. That has been standard practice since they were all in first grade. Normally such secrets revolve around plots they have concocted for the social destruction of a common enemy. (And by common enemy Nate means anyone stupid enough to make an enemy of either Chuck or Blair, because once you were the enemy of one, you were the enemy of both.)

But Chuck and Blair keeping secrets together never really bothered him that much when Serena was around. Partly perhaps because Serena would often tell him what the secret was, having extracted it from Blair under the code of female best friendship. But with Serena around he also hadn't felt so alone, like he was being deliberately excluded or left out of the loop. Before when Chuck and Blair had a secret that they refused tell either him or Serena, he had at least been able to enjoy the blonde's companionship as they speculated as to what the secret might be.

After a week of his broodiness, Blair finally caves and agrees that he can go with them and see how they spend their Monday evenings. Chuck says nothing at this pronouncement, just looks at his scotch contemplatively before drinking down a large swallow.

Nate is flabbergasted when on Monday evening at quarter to seven they lead him into a dance studio. He is even more dumbfounded to discover that unbeknownst to him they have been taking lessons together for the past four years.

Bart had hoped the class would teach his son gentlemanly behaviour, Chuck explained sardonically. And you could only participate as part of a couple, Blair further clarified.

Besides, this was the only non-horizontal form of physical exertion he actually enjoyed, Chuck rationalized with a wink. And given her penchant for Fred and Ginger movies, Blair had been the obvious person to ask to accompany him, she said with a smile.

It all sounds perfectly reasonable, except for the part where neither of them ever told him anything about it. And the part where once the music starts Chuck snakes his arm around Blair's waist to pull her onto the floor, holding her close during a very intimate rumba. Shouldn't Chuck have informed him some time over the past four years he had been pressing Nate's girlfriend's body against his for two hours every week?

With the instructor's approval, Blair had agreed to trade off partnering Chuck and Nate throughout the evening so that both boys had an opportunity to dance.

But after a very embarrassing merengue where, despite Blair's best efforts, Nate had managed to trip over his own feet several times, he excused himself from further dancing and left the floor to Chuck and Blair.

He then spent the rest of the evening watching Chuck and Blair glide effortlessly around the studio, the instructor regularly pointing them out as an example of perfect technique to the other couples, a collection of engaged twenty- and thirty-somethings preparing for their wedding dance and older, more sedate pairs with time on their hands and a desire to keep active.

An old biddy in red sequins from one of these couples sidled up to Nate during the break.

"Such a handsome pair," she told Nate, a gleam in her eye. "I love watching them. They move so well together. And Blair is such a charming, pretty girl. You're a very lucky young man."

Nate nodded and smiled politely. He wished Serena was here. Serena wouldn't care if he tripped over his own feet while dancing with her. She was as clumsy as he was. They would just have a good time laughing at themselves, oblivious to those around them.

Nevertheless, he kept the well-bred smile on his face as Chuck and Blair performed dance after dance together flawlessly, their bodies moving in perfect synchronicity as if connected through some strange magnetism. It didn't falter even when they ended the night with a passionate tango, when Chuck's hands skimmed the sides of Blair's stomach and thighs, when her body slid down his as he lowered her from an impressive lift or when their mouths came within a whisper's breath of each other.

It didn't matter, because at the end of the night Nate was the one who took her home and kissed her goodnight.

But he never went with them to the dance studio again, or bothered trying to phone them on Monday nights.


	3. Chapter 3

_Ten Ways To Know If Your Girlfriend and Best Friend Are Into Each Other_

It's a pretty good sign that your girlfriend and best friend are into each other if they have secret emergency codes they use with one another when they need help.

Nate and Blair were walking in the park discussing his latest feats on the lacrosse field when she got a text from Chuck.

Nate read it over her shoulder, but the simple message 'come quick, code 316' meant nothing to him.

Blair rolled her eyes and looked mildly annoyed but nevertheless quickly replied back 'b right there' before shoving her phone in her bag and turning to Nate with a sigh.

"Sorry sweetie but I have to go over to Chuck's now," she said in a sing song voice, already heading for the road at a fast trot.

"Oh, I'll come with you," Nate replied easily. "It's been a while since I hung out with my boy."

Blair's mouth tightened slightly. "All right," she responded grudgingly, light tone gone. "But you won't be able to come up straight away when we get there."

"What? Why?" Nate questioned suspiciously, eyebrows drawing together in a typical Nate look of confusion.

Blair emitted another frustrated sigh. "Never mind. There's no time now," she replied impatiently, breaking into an almost run as they crossed the street to the Palace.

After they reached the outside of the hotel Blair opened her bag again and pulled out a small pillbox. When she reached inside the box Nate was surprised to see her pull out a glittering ring which she promptly put onto the third finger of her left hand.

"Okay, wait down here. When you see a girl rush out the door crying or muttering obscenities, it should be safe to come up," Blair informed him matter-of-factly.

Before he had time to answer she had given him a quick peck on the cheek and spun around to run into the hotel.

Nate groaned. Lately he felt so distant from Blair. This certainly wasn't the first time he didn't have a clue what was going on in her head. The sad thing was he was actually pretty apathetic about finding out. It was more than just him having his mind on Serena. Something between him and Blair had shifted. She seemed to becoming a different person – queening it over the other girls at school, hardly ever eating, getting strange messages from his best friend. It was like he didn't even know her anymore.

But he suspected Chuck did. They hung out enough. Not that it worried Nate. If anything it was a relief to have the pressure taken off him. And he knew nothing would ever happen between the two of them. They were polar opposites. Blair wanted a prince, not a playboy. And Chuck preferred women with experience and without inhibition.

As Blair had predicted, within ten minutes a girl rushed through the doors of the Palace, red hair flying behind her as she muttered 'bastard, that _asshole_ bastard'. Obviously, Chuck was up to his usual tricks.

Nate assumed it was now safe for him to head on up. When he exited the elevator on Chuck's floor he could already hear the sound of Blair's voice. The door of Chuck's suite had been left slightly ajar.

"And I can't believe you keep making the same stupid mistakes and just expecting me to drop everything to help you out. I was having a romantic walk in the park with Nate and you know how little time I've got to spend with him lately, he's _always _busy..."

Nate felt a tiny twinge of guilt at this because truthfully, he wasn't that busy. It had just become so hard to spend time with Blair, especially when half the time he was with her he was thinking about her blonde best friend.

Chuck's voice suddenly cut across his girlfriend's angry tones. "Hey, how was I supposed to know she'd get all clingy and refuse to leave in the morning. I'm telling you that one needs a room at the Ostroff Centre, I thought she was going to go Glenn Close on my ass."

Nate heard Blair snort. "Bass, face it any girl who falls for your bull is probably suffering serious mental problems. But you should know by now it's always the redheads that are the real crazies. Every time."

"Mmm, maybe in the future I should stick to brunettes," Chuck drawled, his tone obviously suggestive in a way that gave Nate just the briefest pause.

"Ugh!" Blair responded. "Anything that will keep you from interrupting my mornings."

When Chuck spoke again he sounded slightly irritated. "God forbid I interrupt a date with Nate the Great. It must have been _so _romantic given the speed with which you arrived at my front door. What, did he regale you with more of his exploits on the lacrosse field?"

There was a pause inside. Nate could picture Chuck smirking at Blair as she glared at him.

He knocked on the door as he entered. Chuck and Blair immediately broke from their intense stare, and an undefined tension that was hanging in the air was suddenly broken.

"Hey, I saw the redhead leave so I figured it was safe to come up," he said.

"Good to know she isn't hanging around in the lobby. It gets a bit awkward having to ring down to reception to make sure they're really gone," Chuck declared, mouth quirked.

"So is one of you going to tell me what's going on? What the hell is a code 316?" Nate asked, faintly irritated.

"Number 316 of the Blair and Chuck code is invoked when one of my guests proves more...tenacious, than usual," Chuck answered.

"The Blair and Chuck code?" Nate queried, torn between exasperation and amusement.

"A list of codes we constructed one night whilst perhaps slightly intoxicated. Intended to get us out of any awkward situation," Chuck explained.

"Each possible event from which one of us might need restriction has a number for texting purposes, and also an innocuous phrase in case it needs to be dropped innocently into conversation whilst others are present," Blair further clarified. "For instance, the other night at the van Hausans' party when that sweaty pre-med from Columbia was threatening to dance with me I mentioned how much I enjoy the Superman franchise as Chuck happened to walk past."

"Which of course meant she needed rescuing and wanted me to fly her to a galaxy far, far away," Chuck concluded.

"Right," Nate said, brows furrowing. "That's when you two disappeared out onto the balcony with a half bottle of champagne and a tray of hors d'oeuvres. Leaving me to be propositioned by a middle-aged and very persistent cougar, by the way. But what was this morning's SOS about? And why is Blair carrying around a ring in her bag?"

"Because in the event of a 316, when Chuck can't get one of his weak-headed mistakes from the night before refuse to take a hint and depart in the morning, I appear on the scene wearing a ring and doing a very convincing impression of the extremely outraged and possibly violent fiancée," Blair spoke clearly, as if explaining the situation to a very young child.

"Speaking of which, you didn't need to hit me quite so hard earlier Waldorf," Chuck muttered, rubbing his jaw at the memory.

"You wanted it to be credible, didn't you?"

"Well, thank you so much sweetheart," Chuck bit out sarcastically.

"Save it. You can repay me by handling a 219 for me next week," Blair replied casually as she shouldered her bag and headed for the door.

"A 219?" Nate asked, as he took in Chuck's blanched expression.

"Trust me. You don't want to know," Chuck whispered hoarsely, as he watched Blair's swaying hips as they disappeared out his door.

Nate realised that was true. Even though he probably should.


	4. Chapter 4

There's a definite chance your girlfriend and best friend are interested in each other if _he _is the one she asks to do boyfriend-like things, such as picking her up for the airport.

After calling up his parents' car service, Nate directed the driver to take him to JFK airport. He was going to surprise Blair by picking her up after her two-week vacation with her grandmother in Provence.

The decision to meet her at the airport was part of his resolution to re-commit himself to their relationship. He had wanted to make the most of her time away by using it to determine whether he really wanted to be with her, knowing he couldn't keep stringing her along while he was pining after her best friend.

Blair was a wonderful girl and she deserved a boyfriend who gave her his full attention. Besides, she was here in Manhattan, while Serena had disappeared from view with apparently no intention of re-appearing anytime soon, Nate had finally accepted.

And he _had _missed Blair while she was away. Maybe not as much as he sometimes missed her best friend...He cut that thought off in its tracks.

Serena might have a warmth that appealed to Nate, offered him something that was missing from his own home life walking on eggshells around his parents' brittle, polite coolness, but Blair was the perfect girlfriend. She was sweet and understanding and affectionate. (With him at least, lesser beings were not always so fortunate.)

Blair worked hard to try to make him happy. Of course, she didn't always seem to understand that the things she and UES society thought should make him happy didn't necessarily make him so.

But she was the perfect girlfriend, made a point of doing all the things a girlfriend was supposed to.

Like accompanying him to and from the airport.

She'd always done this, going with him or coming to meet him so that they could have a big Hollywood moment kiss at the terminal, a memory to take with him when he went away, or something to welcome him back again.

He'd never taken her to the airport. Or picked her up. Selfishly, the thought had never occurred to him.

It wasn't that it was really necessary. Blair's parents would of course arrange their daughter's transportation and Blair was quite capable of getting herself around anyway. Actually, she was a force to be reckoned with when it came to cab drivers who tried to take a longer route than was strictly necessary, her sharp words quickly causing them to change direction and knock down the cost of the fare.

And Blair had never actually asked him to pick her up or drop her off any time she was going away.

But Nate knew she probably would have liked it if he had done it. She shouldn't have to ask him.

He smiled as he entered the airport. Well, he was here now. He checked the arrivals monitor and saw that he had fifteen minutes before Blair's plane landed. It would probably take him that long to walk to the arrival gate.

He set off, still grinning, thinking about Blair's surprised face when she saw him. It would definitely be a romantic moment, just the right thing to get their relationship on track again. Even if he would rather be picking someone else up.

But as Nate arrived at the gate, he recognised a familiar figure. The back of the head was non-descript enough, but Nate knew of only one man in the city with the money and bravado to wear a purple silk suit, the elegant tailoring unmistakeably that of Seville Row. His best friend was here.

It was conceivable of course that Chuck Bass was there to greet another person arriving off the plane, but that possibility never even entered Nate's head. The moment he saw him, Nate knew Chuck had come to pick up his girlfriend.

And though there was nothing ostensibly wrong with this, still he felt a slight swooping sensation in his stomach.

Perhaps Chuck had decided to surprise her as well.

Nate walked over and tapped Chuck on the shoulder, saluting him with an affable smile.

Chuck turned around, his face betraying momentary complete and utter astonishment, as well as something else less easily defined. (Disappointment, maybe?) But his features were quickly re-arranged into his customary carefully blank, assessing expression by the time Nate spoke.

"Hey man," Nate grinned, tone friendly.

"Nathaniel," Chuck responded pleasantly. "I'm surprised to see you here. You never pick Blair up."

Nate cringed. So other people had noticed his failing in this respect too. It made him feel even more guilty and conscious of his neglect of Blair. Why hadn't Chuck ever said anything to him? His best friend wouldn't have been out of line telling him that it would be appropriate if he made the effort to meet his girlfriend at the airport every once in a while.

"Yeah, I know," Nate acknowledged shame-facedly. "I thought I'd surprise her."

Chuck nodded, eyes narrowed. "Well, you'll certainly do that. She arranged for me to give her a ride home before she left."

Nate felt even more mortified. He'd assumed Blair would just get a cab home. That she'd felt so insecure in his affections that she'd organised a lift from Chuck rather than rely on her boyfriend was appalling.

"Oh, I didn't know," Nate said awkwardly.

"Well, you must be eager to see her again, after all this time apart," Chuck tested shrewdly. "Even though you obviously don't spend the time you are together to good use, seeing as Blair's still a virgin," he teased.

Nate didn't notice that Chuck said nothing about Nate's own virginity, which he wasn't supposed to know that Nate had lost to Serena at the Sheppard Wedding before she ran away.

"Course I missed her, that's why I'm here," Nate agreed. "Strange as it may seem to a guy like you, even though we haven't had sex yet I still miss her when she's not around," he said, rolling his eyes.

Chuck's lips quirked in a half-smile. "Actually Archibald I can understand your feelings perfectly. It will be good to have Waldorf back. The city isn't the same without its queen."

Their conversation was interrupted as the passengers began disembarking off the plane. Nate and Chuck both spotted Blair who, as she was riding in first class, was one of the first to descend the gangway.

She began walking towards them, elegantly attired for travel in a red knee length skirt that hugged her thighs and a white and red blouse that betrayed just the slightest hint of cleavage.

The effect was only marred by the slight crease in her forehead as her eyes searched the airport. However, when they finally settled on Chuck, her face broke into a delighted smile.

"Punctual as ever, Bass," she smirked as she approached him. "I'll have to give you a very good tip this time. I had to buy two extra suitcases to carry all the new clothes and books my grandmother bought me."

She had not even noticed Nate, who was standing off to the side.

"Well, the vacation obviously suited you, Waldorf. You look even more ravishing than when you left," Chuck drawled suavely.

"That might be because when you dropped me off it was five o'clock in the morning and I was sleep deprived," Blair answered, rolling her eyes.

Startled by the news Chuck had also dropped Blair at the airport, Nate moved forward to attract her attention.

"Nate!" Blair cried in shock. For a moment she merely looked baffled, but then she threw her arms around him.

After a couple of seconds, he cautiously returned her embrace, although he did not quite match her enthusiasm.

"I can't believe you came to pick me up," Blair said as she eventually let go.

Nate gave a smile that did not quite reach his eyes. "I didn't know that you'd already arranged a lift with Chuck."

For a second Blair looked almost embarrassed.

"Oh, well I always ask Chuck," Blair explained, a little flustered. "Cabs and normal cars can't always hold all my luggage. But of course Chuck has the stretch."

"Plus, I do love to be the first to hear all the scandalous details of Blair's trips away," Chuck contributed with a knowing smirk.

Blair shot him a warning glance. "They're never that scandalous, given that I have a boyfriend," she answered glibly.

"Yes, a boyfriend who's missed you and is very glad to have you home," Nate picked her up and kissed her once more, to Blair's delighted laughter.

When he put her down, he saw that Chuck had edged off to the side, his eyes carefully averted. With his face turned away, Nate couldn't see the slightly jealous expression suffusing Chuck's countenance at the public display.

"Well, as you two love birds obviously have all sorts of catching up to do, I'll leave you to it. Blair's excess luggage can of course ride home with me," Chuck informed them with an agreeability he did not completely feel.

"Thanks man," Nate answered, hugging Blair to his side.

Nate very much enjoyed the ride back into town with Blair. The only moment of disquiet he experienced came after they had arrived back at her apartment, and Chuck's driver had removed her baggage from the limo.

Blair had suddenly left Nate's side to blithely trot over to the car, tapping on Chuck's window. He obligingly rolled it down.

"You want me to check out your holiday snaps or something, Waldorf?" Chuck queried, his sarcasm downplayed by his smile.

"No, I just want to thank you for coming to pick me up," Blair responded coyly.

"I always pick you up. But I'll be collecting on that tip you promised next week," Chuck murmured suggestively.

He cast a quick look in Nate's direction before whispering so only Blair could hear, "Some time when your boyfriend's not around." He winked before rolling up his window.

Blair ran back to her boyfriend, trying to ignore the fluttery feeling in her stomach and the momentary, unexpected wish that Chuck wasn't kidding.


	5. Chapter 5

_Thanks to Decemberellia for giving me the suggestion for the last chapter. A few of you have asked for this idea or something like it as well, so here goes. Although I have a few ideas to continue on with, I still welcome more suggestions, again especially if based on real experiences, of ways to know your best friend and lover are into each other. Anyway, please read and review!_

Odds on your best friend and girlfriend are into each other if she is responsible for half the purchases in his closet.

The first time Nate became aware of it was at a garden party hosted by Mimi Von Furstenbeck to celebrate her latest divorce or recent engagement, Nate wasn't quite sure which.

Mimi, in the thrall of her new nutritionist-cum-fiancée, had sworn of alcohol and in her enthusiasm had decided the party would be dry. Without the aid of the useful social lubricant, the function's chatter had become stilted.

Searching around for a conversation topic, Nate's eyes landed on his best friend's outfit. Chuck always dressed with a flamboyancy that Nate could never imagine emulating. Nor would he wish to.

But his best friend had surpassed himself in his efforts today. Chuck was attired in a pale pink shirt, a jacket of a slightly darker shade of pink and white trousers, the whole ensemble being set off by a white and pink polka dot ascot.

On another man the outfit would be decidedly effeminate, but somehow Chuck managed to pull it off with a debonair, rakish masculinity. That seemed to be what the women of the party thought at least, given the way a beautiful, thirty-something divorcee, a determined-looking blonde heiress and an enchanting Russian ballerina had all been vying for his attention ever since his arrival.

The trio had quickly dispersed when Blair Waldorf appeared at Chuck's side, shooing them away with an imperious wave of one hand while laying another possessive one on his arm. Chuck accepted this dismissal of his harem with a lazy grin, submitting his attention to Blair, who was discussing something with him intently.

It was Blair's close proximity to Chuck that really caused Nate to notice Chuck's clothes. Or more particularly, caused him to notice the way they co-ordinated flawlessly with Blair's pink shift dress which she had accessorised with a white belt that accentuated her tiny waist and the pink and white bow sitting jauntily in her dark curls. A perfectly matched pair.

He excused himself from his current conversation companion, an especially dull friend of his father's, and moved towards them.

"Nice outfit, man" Nate said jovially. "It even matches Blair."

Chuck's lips quirked into one of his half-smiles. "That's probably why she picked it out for me," he responded as he raised a glass of scotch to his lips.

"She told you what you had to wear today?" Nate snorted, amused by his girlfriend's pushiness. He'd once kidded with Serena that Blair was the boss of everyone but it was kind of true. Even the great Chuck Bass bowed down to her dictates.

Blair glared at him frostily. "I didn't tell him he _had _to wear it. When we picked it out at Bendels I simply told him that if he decided to wear it today he wouldn't clash with my outfit."

"And I wouldn't want to clash with the Queen," Chuck said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"Well, you should be glad you don't. If you did, I wouldn't be standing next to you now. I make a point of only talking to people at parties whose outfits will enhance my own," Blair said, with a touch of asperity.

She stormed off when both boys began to laugh at her, and Chuck and Nate retired to a quiet corner for some herbal refreshment.

The fact that Chuck and Blair had gone shopping together, and Blair had helped him select clothes, hadn't meant match to Nate at the time. They were friends after all.

But over the next few months, whenever Nate complimented an item from Chuck's wardrobe, the invariable response he received was an absent-minded reply of 'Blair picked it out'.

And at social functions their outfits almost always seemed to complement each other in some way.

When Nate questioned this ongoing co-ordination, Blair had said it was mostly by chance. Following the fashion trends as they did, Chuck and Blair often appeared in the same colours because they were _the_ colours of the season. Plus as both Blair and Chuck had the same dark features and pale skin, the tones that suited them tended to be the same.

But Nate's forebearance finally snapped one day when, after telling Blair had beautiful she looked, she replied that Chuck had bought her the dress.

"You guys really go shopping together a lot," Nate said testily.

Blair shrugged, frowning at his tone. "Well, sure," she said. "With Serena gone I guess he's my go-to shopping buddy."

"Wouldn't it make more sense to go with Kati and Is?" Nate asked in frustration. "Or your boyfriend," he muttered under his breath.

"Kati and Is always shop together and have a totally different aesthetic to me," Blair contended reasonably. "And the one time I took you shopping you were so bored you complained the entire time. I didn't exactly think it was an experience you wanted to repeat."

"It's still weird that you're always buying clothes for a guy who's not your boyfriend," he muttered.

"I've bought you shirts before," she defended.

"Yeah, at Christmas," Nate answered.

"So?"

"You've chosen like half the clothes in Chuck's closet!"

"He appreciates my taste! When I did buy you those shirts, you weren't exactly enthusiastic. In fact as I remember it you said something about not being a Ken doll for me to dress."

"That didn't mean I was okay with you going out and using my best friend as some kind of substitute boyfriend whose wardrobe you could dictate instead."

Blair's cheeks were suddenly stained with red as she fixed ferocious eyes on Nate.

"Chuck's my friend," Blair informed him caustically. "And unlike you, he doesn't have a mother to pick out all his clothes for him," she continued coldly.

Nate's face flushed with embarrassment. That thought had never occurred to him. Nate's mother _did_ do most of his clothes shopping for him, lovingly selecting items that she said would bring out his blue eyes. Without her Nate would be fairly helpless as far as fashionable attire went. But Chuck's mother was dead. He had no one to shop for him.

Who would Chuck shop with, if it wasn't for Blair? The chronically absent and bad-tempered Bart wasn't exactly one to suggest some father-son bonding as they were measured for suits. Chuck knew Nate had no interest in being dragged around department stores. And Chuck had no girlfriend of his own.

Such thoughts had never occurred to Nate, but they evidently had to Blair.

"I'm sorry," Nate whispered, ashamed. "I didn't realise."

Blair sighed, patted his hand. "I know."

"When did you?" he asked curiously, grasping her fingers in his.

She smiled wryly.

"A long time ago. Andy Clark's eighth birthday party in fact. Chuck turned up wearing the most hideous grey argyle sweater I've ever seen. I asked him rather snootily who picked out his clothes and he said it was a personal shopper of Bart's. Chuck wasn't exactly enamoured with the outfits she kept picking for him either, or the sombre range of black and grey they came in. So I started asking him to go with me whenever I had no one else to shop with and we injected some colour into his wardrobe."

Nate kissed her forehead and groaned. "I'm a bad friend. And a worse boyfriend."

Blair giggled. "Oh, you'll do for now. At least until someone better comes along," she teased.

"Oh really," he challenged, pulling her laughingly in for a passionate, open-mouthed kiss intended to prove no one better existed. Blair enjoyed it, even if it didn't give her the stomach butterflies the girls at school said were the ultimate sign of true love.

As if intent on proving them wrong, she pulled back to stare up into Nate's eyes. "I love you, Nate Archibald."

"I love you, Blair Waldorf," he replied easily, not even stopping to think if he really meant the words.

"And you know it was silly to be jealous of Chuck, don't you?" she questioned seriously.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that," Nate answered. He really was. Part of him knew that his distrust hadn't been about Blair and Chuck at all. It was the product of his own insecurities about what had happened with him and Serena. Plagued with guilt, he'd unfairly suspected Blair of his own crimes. But Blair would never do anything to hurt him. Nor would Chuck.

So it never bothered him in the future when Gossip Girl posted pictures of Chuck and Blair laughing or sipping coffees together as they browsed at trendy boutiques, or when his girlfriend and best friend's outfits harmonised perfectly at parties. It didn't mean anything, after all.


	6. Chapter 6

Oddly enough one clear indication that your girlfriend and best friend are into each other is when they quarrel. Like jealous lovers.

It was Monday afternoon and Blair was in one of her 'moods' when she and Nate met up for coffee after school.

She yelled at the cab driver for stopping on Sixth to let a frumpy-looking couple, 'clearly New Jersey tourists', cross the street. In Blair's opinion such bottom-feeders should be run right down.

She insulted the barista's lamentable latte-making skills, asking him if he'd learnt to make coffee in some sort of penal reformatory institute. Nate hoped the guy hadn't spit into their mugs, he did look slightly infectious.

She glowered at the waitress when she came over to check that there wasn't anything else they needed. Blair had told her that if there was she'd let her know, but in the meantime maybe she should return to her usual job of whoring it up on the streets of the meat-packing district, instead of making eyes at her boyfriend.

Nate himself couldn't seem to do or say anything right. Blair didn't actually yell or insult him, that behaviour was reserved for underlings and didn't fit into her picture of how a perfect girlfriend should act, even when piqued. But when Nate asked her how her parents were doing, she thinned her lips. When he told her how pretty she was looking, she sighed. And when he asked her if she had had a good weekend (he had been sailing with his grandfather), she just glowered at him and looked as though she wanted to scratch his eyes out.

Nate didn't have a clue what was the matter with her. Obviously something was wrong, but he knew better than to ask what. He'd learn from Chuck that you should never ask a woman what's wrong. They might tell you.

He discreetly tried to survey her boobs to see if they were bigger than usual, speculating that hormones might be to blame.

Unfortunately, he wasn't discreet enough. Blair crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him from across the table.

"Are you quite done staring at my breasts? Only I want to talk to you about the preparations for the St Judes-Constance charity lunch and I'd like to make sure I have your full attention," Blair questioned waspishly.

"Huh?" Nate replied dazedly, dragging his eyes to her face. "Oh, um, yeah," he finished sheepishly.

Blair pursed her lips and took on a distinctly school marm-ish expression. Nate had the distinct feeling that any moment she would produce a ruler and rap him over the knuckles with it for his inattention.

"God, don't boys ever think about anything but sex?" she asked in disgust.

"In my experience, no," a familiarly deep drawl interjected from behind Blair.

Chuck had appeared without attracting either Nate or Blair's attention. He easily insinuated himself into the seat between them, eyes never leaving Blair's face. Which was contorted with even more hostility than she'd displayed to the unfortunate waitress earlier. Nate was amazed how calm and detached Chuck could remain in the face of such wrath. Blair's rage at Chuck's sleazy demeanour had obviously extended beyond its usual level, yet the other boy did not even blink. His smirk was still fixed firmly in place.

"I especially think that it is highly unlikely you would find a boy, or for that matter a full-grown man, capable of thinking of anything else when they have a gorgeous brunette before them in a plaid skirt and thigh highs," Chuck continued, leering at Blair's legs. "You might want to get used to it, Waldorf."

Now normally this was the sort of comment that Blair would pretend to hate but secretly love, because she accepted it as the compliment Chuck intended it to be. But instead of slapping him and telling him he was heinous or disgusting (all the while wearing a small, secretive smile), Blair continued to regard him with icy contempt.

"Was there something you wanted, Bass?" she enquired coldly. "Or are you simply so starved for company you've decided it's no longer rude to interrupt private conversations?"

Chuck's eyes narrowed at Blair's asperity. Nate was kind of surprised himself. He knew Blair was in a bad mood, but normally if anything Chuck was the one who could normally be counted to lift her out of the doldrums. Oh, they argued. Fairly frequently, in fact. But it was always with an air of banter and mockery as they tried to bait and one-up each other in a kind of friendly rivalry that had developed between them. Not with this undercurrent of genuine antagonism now emanating from Blair.

"Oh, I think you know I'm never short of company, Blair," Chuck countered curtly, eyes still trained intensely on Blair, barely seeming to register Nate's presence. "As it happens I not infrequently find myself double-booked."

This words seem to have a jolting effect on Blair. Her spine straightened and she suddenly affected a look of indifference. Yet there was a definite frission of tension in the air. Nate had the distinct feeling that his best friend and girlfriend were speaking in some sort of code impossible for him to understand, meaning more with their words than what they were actually saying.

"What are you doing here then?" she asked nonchalantly. "We wouldn't won't to take up any of your valuable free time." Her tone was diabolically, derisively sweet.

Nate decided it was time he interposed and defused the situation. "Actually, I asked Chuck if he wanted to join us last week. I knew I wouldn't have seen him over the weekend either so I thought we could all get together. Sorry I forgot to mention it."

Chuck's eye contact with Blair was finally broken as he turned towards Nate, ending whatever cryptic communications had been passing between the two.

Blair also transferred her attention back to her boyfriend. She rolled her eyes.

"Lovely. You decided to invite your friend on our date. How romantic."

Nate's forehead creased. Hmm, maybe that had been kind of dumb. "Well, you've never minded before," Nate pointed out feebly. Blair had always seemed more than happy to have Chuck hang out with them. When he added up the pros and cons of their relationship, it was one of the things he had always liked best about Blair, that she got on so well with his best friend. It had to say something about their compatibility as a couple.

Chuck's attention was taken up by the waitress taking his order. He paid his usual flirtatious

attentions to the girl, but having received her warning from Blair earlier, she did not respond. Nevertheless, Blair seemed to find something offensive in the spectacle and when she spoke again it was with renewed venom.

"Did it ever occur to you I don't _always _want to be hanging out with your jackass of a best friend," Blair hissed in a low voice as she leant across the table to Nate.

"Well, I honestly didn't think it would bother you. I mean I figured you wouldn't have seen him for a couple of days either while I was away so I thought we could all...you know...catch up," Nate floundered.

Blair sat back in her chair, her face now clouded with a different emotion. She seemed embarrassed. And maybe...guilty?

"Actually, Blair and I were supposed to spend the day together yesterday," Chuck cut in smoothly. "But I'm afraid my Saturday night appointment continued into the better part of Sunday morning and it somewhat wrecked our plans."

This was all relayed dispassionately, as if being of little interest. But taking in Blair's wan face and telling silence, Nate suspected this was the source of her earlier irritation.

"Oh," said Nate lamely. He'd never imagined that Chuck and Blair would elect to spend the day with each other while he was away. Not that there was anything wrong with it. It just never occurred to him.

He quickly changed the subject by launching in to a recital of the various magnificent manoeuvres he'd performed on the yacht over the weekend. Chuck co-operated by offering the occasional witty remark or conversation filler. Although it might have been evident to the more observant that there was a somewhat false note to the encouraging smile plastered on his face, and that he kept shooting covert glances at the still silent Blair. Eventually though she too rejoined the discussion, albeit addressing all her comments to Nate.

Finally, somewhat exhausted from his unusual role of being the most talkative member of the gathering, Nate excused himself from the table.

He procrastinated on his visit to the gentlemen's facilities, hoping to give Chuck and Blair sufficient time to sort out their differences, lingering as long as he could without raising suspicions that he was suffering from some sort of embarrassing symptom of sickness.

As he re-entered the cafe he paused behind a Venetian screen that would shield him from Chuck and Blair's view but enable him to listen in on their conversation, so he could determine if it was an apposite time for him to return to the table.

Judging from their crisp tones, it would seem it was not.

"Look, I've already said I was sorry, Waldorf," Chuck said in a way that made him sound like he was not really sorry at all. "Maybe if you and Nate ever get around to doing more than holding hands, you'll realise it's easy to lost track of time in certain situations."

"Well, I would have expected you to be more circumspect, that's all," Blair answered snidely. "The skanks you sleep with do charge by the hour, don't they?"

"Your bitch is showing, Blair," Chuck snapped. "And anyone can see the real reason why. You're jealous."

"Oh, yes, I'm positively seething with envy for the poor girl you connived and seduced into your world of hedonistic exploitation. I wish it was me who was having to worry about being tested for various STDs this week."

"I guarantee she had a better time than you did yesterday, seething because I broke our plans."

"I did not seethe and I don't rely on you to fulfil my days. I have a handsome boyfriend who just so happened to be away over the weekend, and therefore no reason to be jealous. And when you failed to show, it wasn't hard to find someone to take your place. But, as you pointed out, you did break our plans and I just happen to find that incredibly rude."

"Forgive me if like any red-blooded male I enjoy having sex more than the prospect of spending another Sunday morning with you eating croissants and watching Audrey Hepburn movies."

Nate knew this had been Blair and Serena's Saturday morning ritual before the blonde disappeared to parts unknown. He hadn't realised that Chuck had taken over the tradition, in addition to the other ways he'd assumed the role of surrogate best friend.

"Well, don't worry, if my company is so tedious I'll be sure not to inflict myself on you again." Blair's livid tone had become more of a sob.

Chuck seemed to soften slightly in response. "You know tedious is the last thing I consider you. Except maybe sometimes when you're going on and on about what it would mean to marry into the Vanderbilt dynasty."

Blair snorted. "Now who's being jealous?"

Chuck continued. "I've broken plans with other girls countless times to come to the rescue in one of your so-called emergencies. And it wasn't the girl that kept me in bed yesterday so much as the massive hangover I was nursing from the night before."

"I don't care. I told you, it's not about the girl. It's about you being an unreliable bastard who can't be counted on to be there when someone actually needs him."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? I presume you know how to work the DVD player without me?"

Silence from Blair.

Chuck seemed to realise maybe there was something going on here that he didn't understand either. "Why? Why was yesterday so important to you?"

"I...I just wanted to talk to you...about something," Blair muttered. "But you know what, I'm glad I didn't. I'm glad you reminded me what an insensitive ass you are. Just forget it. I'll never trouble you with my problems again."

Nate heard her chair being pulled back across the floor.

"Tell Nate I had to go. And don't bother coming over next Sunday, I won't be in. Goodbye Chuck."

With that, Blair rushed out of the restaurant, not even seeing Nate as she passed him, tears already forming in her eyes.

When Nate came back to the table, Chuck said that Blair had had to go home to study. He made no reference to the length of time Nate had been gone. He did not seem to have noticed.

Nate felt sorry for his best friend. Sure, he and Blair had had their problems, but they'd never had a fight like that. He couldn't think of any other time he'd seen Blair so passionately enraged either.

He barely registered the fact that there was a small part of himself that was secretly quite pleased at the prospect of a rift between his girlfriend and too-charming best friend.

_Okay, so I'm sorry I haven't updated on this or my other fic in so long, I've been really busy. I'm hoping I'll be able to update and maybe even finish GGPOTO towards the end of next week. Anyway, I hope you guys haven't totally deserted me and some of you will review??_


	7. Chapter 7

When you catch him with his arms around her, you're really an idiot (albeit a possibly good-looking one) if you don't get that your girlfriend and best friend are into each other.

The news that Harold Waldorf has left his wife and daughter to live in France with a model – a male model no less – spreads through Manhattan like wildfire.

It is the talk of every UES dinner party, bitter trophy wives clacking their collagen enhanced lips in faux sympathy, unable to entirely disguise their glee that the seemingly perfect life of the famous Waldorf family has been exposed as a sham.

The knowledge that their own marriages are, in many cases, equally flawed and fictitious makes the gossip more intense, rather than less. It is one of those rare instances where the carefully constructed lies that make up the lives of the inhabitants of the Upper East Side are exposed for the whole world to see, and everyone revels in being witness to the fallout.

"Dah-ling, it's just _too _terrible for poor Eleanor," one silicone enhanced snobess cooed to another. "And with her spring collection about to come out too! I don't see how she'll possibly be able to brave the shows."

"Mmm, I can't say that I'd be bothered by the demise of the Waldorf fashion house. Too staid for my taste," simpered her lunch companion, who had failed to secure a particularly coveted piece of Waldorf haute couture to wear to a gala the year before. "The one I feel sorry for is that poor daughter. Having to hold her head up in public knowing her father is a _raging_...Judy Garland fan. And they say that they were remarkably close."

Blair has always adored her father and the loss of him devastates her even more than the scandal it creates.

It is made worse by the fact that her best friend has disappeared and her boyfriend is MIA too, having retired to the Vanderbilt complex with his parents for the holidays before the news of her parents' separation broke. Nate's parents had encouraged him to bring Blair along on the trip, but he neglected to pass on the invitation, selfishly craving time to himself in which to fantasise about blondes and barstools.

So Blair has no one to comfort her. Eleanor, after having a truly epic-sized Waldorf meltdown, books herself into a spiritual retreat in Maine, leaving Blair alone with the help.

Chuck knows this and knows that he should be the one to comfort her. But a) he has no experience at comforting any one, particularly girls and b) the last time he and Blair spoke they had got in to a fight, in which she had made it quite clear she did not need him or his company. Chuck tries calling Nate to let him know what is happening, and maybe tell him to stop being such a lousy boyfriend even by Chuck's fairly low standards, but Nate is always out sailing or horseback riding or on the bloody beach probably checking out girls, and doesn't return Chuck's calls.

Chuck remains torn about what he should do, until he overhears the two bitchy women having lunch at the Palace Hotel's restaurant and their evident enjoyment of the way Blair's life is falling apart fills him with quiet rage. Because she's Blair Waldorf in the same way he is Chuck Bass, and that should mean something in this town, and even at this stage there is a small part of him that knows that he wouldn't be Chuck Bass without her.

So he gets up from the bar and smoothly heads over to the ladies' (if such a term can be applied to such human banshees) table. They look up at his approach, not at all troubled by the interruption because Chuck is young and handsome and rich and his father owns the hotel. Plus if the rumours about his sexual prowess are true he could be a prime toy boy candidate, someone to distract them from their loveless marriages and help them get even with their husbands for cheating on them with their twenty-year-old secretaries and nannies and interns. Both women smile warmly at Chuck in welcome.

"Sorry to interrupt ladies, but I couldn't help overhearing you discuss the latest _on dit_. You were talking about the Waldorfs' separation, am I right?" Chuck drawled appealingly.

"Absolutely scandalous, isn't it?" the one with the most work done gushed.

"You're Chuck Bass, aren't you? Don't you go to school with that poor little girl?" her friend interjected, determined not to be left out of the conversation and hoping for some spicy details to increase her social cachet the next time the topic comes up in conversation.

"As a matter of fact, I do. Although I can't imagine calling Blair Waldorf a 'poor' anything. She has more beauty and class than the two of you, for instance, will ever be able to purchase in a lifetime, no matter how many husbands you suck dry with alimony payments," he informed the gob-smacked women coolly.

"Actually, I only came over to express my surprise that you would be discussing such an old piece of gossip. Especially since the two of you have so many things in common about which you could be conversing. For instance," he said, turning to the first woman. "Did you know that when your husband claims to be 'working' on Friday nights he can usually be found at the Viper Club strip joint enjoying the exotic entertainments on offer? I've bumped into him many times."

The woman stared at Chuck in appalled horror.

"If you don't believe me, ask your friend," Chuck continued, turning to the other woman. "She's accompanied him on more than one occasion. See, the club also has these rooms above stairs that can be rented by patrons who find the sights get them a little...amorous."

He nodded at the second woman. "You'd know all about how that works of course. Weren't you employed at the club, before you met your present husband? I'm sure you probably just stop by as often as you do to chat to old colleagues."

Both women had by now gone white, and the second was making strange gurgling sounds as if she was choking.

"Well, I'll leave you ladies to your lunch now," Chuck said nodding. But before turning to go, he leaned towards them, dropping his tone intimately, "Just remember, it may not be wise for you, or anyone else for that matter, to trash the Waldorf family. I know where too many of the bodies in this town are buried."

Needless to say, news of the Waldorf split was quickly overshadowed by the revelation that a catfight had broken out between two society matrons at the Palace restaurant, after it was revealed that one had been having intimate rendezvous with the other's husband. But what could you expect from a former stripper, those in the know cackled.

In the meantime Chuck headed for the Waldorf penthouse, intent on doing what he now realised he should have done when the story broke a few days ago.

Dorota informed him that Blair was not receiving visitors, but Chuck had never let that stop him before. As Chuck heads for her room the maid, secretly glad that finally someone has stopped to think about how all this affects her young mistress, tells him that Blair has buried herself in her room with a dozen boxes of Lady Godiva and won't come out, even for meals.

Chuck doesn't bother to knock, and walks in, not to find Blair sprawled across the bed as he expects or crumpled in a heap on the bathroom floor as he fears, but kneeling on the carpet examining some kind of book. She is dressed only in a barely there silk nightgown that shows off her delectable curves and the thought flits quickly through Chuck's mind that his best friend really is an idiot for not being here right now. But he pushes the thought quickly away because although he might enjoy indulging in flirtatious banter with her, this is his best friend's girlfriend, this is Blair, and right now she's in pain.

Nevertheless, in a pretence of normality, he opens with a leer. "I entirely applaud your choice of daywear, Waldorf. Now if only you can convince the rest of Manhattan's beauties that negligees aren't just for bed, I'll die a happy man," Chuck drawled as he stepped towards her.

Blair quickly snaps the books she's been examining shut and pushes it under her bed. "Just along as you die Bass, I don't care as to the cause," she snapped back, rising and pulling on a matching silk dressing gown, securing the belt firmly round her waist.

Normally Chuck would have met this with an equally biting retort, but instead he just smiles at her. "I've said it before Blair, but your wit really is under-appreciated."

Blair seems to deflate somewhat at the sudden gentleness in his voice and sits herself on the edge of her bed. "Just like the rest of me, I guess. It's like my parents have entirely forgotten my existence. My mother has retired to a health spa for an indefinite period of time to 'recuperate' and my father...." Blair trailed off.

"Your father adores you. Always has, always will," Chuck said firmly.

Blair turns wounded eyes to Chuck. "Then how could he leave like that? How come he hasn't called me to ask how I'm doing, to apologise, to...anything? I mean, I can get how he'd leave Eleanor. But I can't get how he could leave me. He didn't just move out of the house, he moved out of the country! And I don't know when I'll see him again."

Blair sounded so forlorn Chuck immediately sank down on the bed beside her and wrapped his arms around her. Although he enjoyed sex, Chuck wasn't a very tactile person. Probably a result of his father rarely hugging him as a child. Apart from socially-appropriate occasions, such as when they were dancing, Chuck had seldom had any sort of physical contact with Blair. And it was more than just his usual lack of touchy-feely behaviour with friends. Some instinct had always held him back from touching Blair. She was like this beautiful porcelain doll that was only made for looking at. Except he'd always had this sneaking suspicion that if he was ever to pick her up, touch her, hold her – it would be he who would break, not her.

But now he instinctually placed his arms around Blair, rubbing her shoulders, letting her head rest on his neck.

"Your father probably hasn't called you because he feels guilty and embarrassed for leaving you. And he probably stayed with your mother as long as he did for your sake. But you'll see him again."

Blair sniffed and raised watery eyes to Chuck. "You think so Bass?"

"I know so Waldorf. No man could stay away from you."

Blair smiled for the first time in days and slapped Chuck's arm. "Ugh, leave it to you to never miss a chance to use a line."

Chuck grinned. "It's what you love about me."

Blair snorted. "It's one of the many, many things that infuriate me about you."

Chuck's brow puckered. "On that subject...you know you could have called me when all this was going down. I mean I know we had that fight the other week when I couldn't come over that Sunday but, you know no matter how many fights we have, or whatever's going on between us, if you ever really need me I'll be there for you."

Blair made a face, although secretly flattered that the normally cold, unyielding Chuck Bass would make such a soppy confession to her. "Actually that's the reason _why _I wanted you to come over that Sunday. I'd overheard Daddy on the phone to Roman and I needed to tell someone about it. I'd finally worked up the courage to bring it up that day over coffee and croissants but you never showed. Too busy in bed with Miss Sluttypants."

Chuck sighed. He got now why Blair had been so put out. He wished he hadn't slept in that Sunday. Honestly, Miss Sluttpants hadn't even been worth it. And it was kind of touching that Blair had wanted to confide in him, rather than her boyfriend or one of her girlfriends. A bit puzzling, actually.

As if sensing the direction of his thoughts, Blair went on. "I figured you'd help me come up with a great scheme about what to do. Naively, I thought that somehow we could plot a way to fix it. But my life is ruined. And nobody can fix it."

Chuck squeezed Blair's arm. "Yes, we can. At the very least, we can get you out of this tomb of a house to give you some time to regroup. It's school holidays and my father's jet is on standby. We can fly to Barcelona, or Nice, or Shanghai – anywhere you want to go to party or chill out and forget about all this."

Blair smiled weakly. "I do want to get out of this apartment. But at the same time all I really want to do is hole myself up somewhere with chocolates and martinis and movies where messes like this never happens and the heroine always has a happy ending, you know?"

Chuck grinned. "I know the perfect place."

Nate was sunning himself by his family's pool when he finally, and reluctantly, checked the messages on his cell. When he read about what was happening to Blair's family, courtesy of Gossip Girl as well as Chuck, he was horrified. He immediately packed his things and told his parents he had to head back to the city for a while.

He was a lousy boyfriend, not being around for his girlfriend at a time like this. It had already been a week since the separation happened. Blair was undoubtedly falling to pieces, and he should have been with her, rather than avoiding her while fantasising about her best friend.

Nate felt even more frustrated with himself when he went to the Waldorf residence only to be told that Miss Blair had decamped several days ago.

With a sigh he headed for Chuck's, figuring his best friend might know where she was or how she was doing.

However, when he knocked on the door of 1812, he received no answer. Assuming his friend was out but would be back later, Nate decided to use his spare key to let himself in and wait for Chuck's return.

Instead as he entered the living room of Chuck's suite, he was surprised by the sight of Chuck and Blair curled up on the couch together watching a black and white movie on Chuck's TV. The coffee table was covered with used martini and scotch glasses, as well as remnants of the Palace's room service, which seemed to have consisted mostly of hot fudge sundaes. Most surprising of all, Chuck had his arm around Blair, his posture distinctively protective.

As soon as he saw Nate, Chuck retracted his arm just as Blair jumped up from the couch and ran into Nate's.

"Nate! I missed you so much. Everything's been so horrible," Blair moaned.

Nate stroked the back of Blair's head. "I know. I'm so sorry B, I should have been here. I heard what happened. But I'm here now. You can tell me everything."

Blair pulled out of Nate's grasp. "I really don't want to talk about it Nate," Blair said, having already emptied her soul to Chuck enough in the last couple of days. "I just want to escape," she concluded, wrapping herself around Nate once more.

"I can help with that," Nate said soothingly. "My parents and I want you to come up to the Vanderbilt complex and spend the rest of the break with us."

"Oh Nate, really?" Blair cried, delighted at the prospect of a whole week with her perfect boyfriend. "I'll just run and grab my suitcase." She headed for Chuck's bedroom.

"Blair's been staying here?" Nate quizzed Chuck confusedly.

"Like she said, she needed to escape," Chuck said nonchalantly. "I did my best to comfort her."

"Yeah, thanks man," Nate nodded appreciatively. The stab of jealousy he'd felt when he saw Chuck with his arm around Blair before was ridiculous. Chuck was just being a good friend, to both of them, being there for Blair when his best friend wasn't. He was obviously still projecting his own guilt over what happened with Serena onto Blair.

Nate didn't note the way disappointment and envy had mingled on Chuck's face when Nate announced he was snatching Blair away. But maybe it was for the best. He'd got too used to touching Blair over the last couple of days. Especially when she was so obviously only too delighted to be leaving.

As Blair hurriedly pushed her last few scattered things in her bag, she sighed with relief. It was good she was leaving. She'd been getting far too used to having Chuck touch her. Yet while she was thrilled that Nate was committing to spending the whole week with her, there was also a niggling sense of dismay that her time safely cocooned in Chuck's suite, or maybe just his arms, was over.


	8. Chapter 8

It's probable your girlfriend and best friend are into each other if other people mistake them for the couple.

Blair and Chuck are always at their best when they're at a party.

It's effortless for them. They know how to glide from group to group, so that they are seen by everyone and revered by all. They know how to strike up a conversation with strangers, weasel out the latest gossip and juicy titbits from friends, deliver lethally barbed comments to enemies. They somehow manage to never get caught with their mouths full of hors d'oeuvres whilst talking or left standing with a warm drink after they've been holding it too long.

For Nate it is all effort. It's a struggle to make conversation with people who are smarter than him, and who aren't interested in soccer or lacrosse or action movies. It's tedious having to make small talk to the same inane people at every event, and having to endure the condescending banter of his parents' friends. It's mortifying to gag on some unidentified but no doubt ridiculously expensive appetiser on offer from the waiters, and have to decide whether to simply swallow the noxious substance or if it will be possible to discreetly spit it into a cocktail napkin.

It is humiliating to watch your girlfriend gliding along on your best friend's arm and realise they are actually enjoying this. And that other people think they're together, and you're just the third wheel.

The final thought was one that had never occurred to Nate until Lolita Hamilton, ruthless social climber and newly minted trophy wife of a CEO, hosted a party the summer before junior year and invited all the parents and fellow students of her resentful step-daughters, students at Constance.

Knowing how ill-at-ease Nate was at such events, Blair – as always – tried to keep a hold on his hand, forcing him to make the circuit with her and attempting to encourage him to talk to other guests. Especially those, she said while her wide eyes shined with innocent eagerness, who could be 'helpful' to him in the future. These were mostly boring businessmen and their wives.

Meanwhile Chuck lounged insouciantly at her side, mouth twisted into something between a smirk and a smile as he followed his best friend and girlfriend around the room. He may have found the businessmen just as boring as Nate, but he nevertheless managed to joke with them about their golfing handicaps and racquet ball techniques. Then, as Blair beguiled the men, Chuck would charm their women so skilfully that they would be sure to ring him whenever their husbands let something slip about business matters that could be translated into a hot share tip for Chuck, and a hot celebratory night of lovemaking with the debonair Bass heir for them.

Yet even as he flirted with every other woman in the room Chuck somehow always kept one eye on the girl by his side. When her drink rang low, he'd snap his fingers and a waiter would appear. When a middle-aged, middle management type with halitosis who had inexplicably snaffled an invitation became overly-familiar with the petite brunette beauty, he whispered something to him that sent him scuttling out the door. And when a yappy freshman from Princeton tried to crowd her, Chuck discreetly but firmly steered her away.

Nate followed listlessly. Even though Chuck and Blair had both tried to bring him into their conversations he had remained mostly monosyllabic and distracted. He was also famished from his early morning run and basketball practice, attempting to scarf the circulating snacks that Chuck and Blair had only picked at politely.

After stuffing his mouth with a few more mini canapés, Nate ambled over to Chuck and Blair, who were in conversation with an elderly yet elegant lady who had a definite twinkle in her eye. Nate recognised her as Lydia Devereaux, the well-liked wife of an eminently respected former governor.

"I was a graduate of Constance myself," Mrs Devereaux was informing them. "Our girls have always been destined for success," she said, smiling at Blair.

"The school does prepare us well for life at the top," Blair concurred.

"Yes, from my experience, Constance girls do very well on top," Chuck agreed, earning a stiletto to his instep from Blair and a bemused smile and a wink from Mrs Devereaux.

Chuck winced in pain. "However, I think the success of the Constance alumni is owed not so much to the school's merits as a teaching institution as to its tradition of acquiring the most beautiful girls in Manhattan as students," he added smoothly.

Although this was ostensibly a compliment aimed at the still fashionable Lydia Devereaux, Chuck's eyes slid to Blair as he said it. Lydia suspected the heat in his gaze was owed less to the pain in his foot than it was to the rampant lust in other parts of his body.

"But one needs more than beauty to rise to the top of Manhattan's elite," Lydia Devereaux chided, eyebrows raised. "I'm sure Miss Waldorf already knows that. From what I hear, you toppled the grand-daughter of my arch-nemesis, Gertrude Sorenson, to become Queen of Constance."

Blair smiled in surprised gratification. "You were rivals with Jacinta Sorenson's grandmother?" she enquired warmly.

"Horribly common woman," Lydia sniffed. "I'm sure her granddaughter is no better than she ought to be."

"She isn't," confirmed Chuck with a knowing grin. "And after Blair's dexterous manoeuvrings, it is highly unlikely she'll even bother returning to Constance this year."

This was the first Nate was hearing of any fracas between Blair and Jacinta, a pretty but trashy girl in the year above them that most of the girls at Constance looked up to because most of the boys at St Judes wanted to sleep with her.

"Excellent," Mrs Devereaux said with satisfaction. "I knew when I saw you that you were the exact epitome of the perfect Constance student – beauty, brains and ruthless cunning." She raised her glass to Blair and drank a toast.

"In that last department I may have actually had a little help," Blair responded modestly, smiling coyly at Chuck.

"I felt it was my duty to make sure our school got the Queen it deserved," Chuck drawled, unconsciously angling himself even closer to Blair.

Suddenly Nate found the atmosphere in the room too stifling. Muttering excuses, he edged his way onto the balcony.

As he stared out into the lights of the city, Nate yet again wondered where Serena was, and what she was doing. And with whom she was doing it. She would be on holidays from boarding school now. Probably in Europe. With European men.

Nate shook himself. He must stop this. It wasn't fair to Blair. They were at a party together, he was supposed to be her escort and he therefore should be by her side. She was probably missing him.

But as he headed back inside, it was clear that she wasn't. From across the room Nate could see Chuck and Blair ensconced in a corner, whispering furtively. The plot between Chuck and Blair to bring down Jacinta really shouldn't have surprised Nate. The only time Chuck and Blair ever did detach themselves from the main group at a party was when they wanted to secretly engineer someone's social destruction together.

Nate lingered by the buffet table, loath to intrude on the pair's tête-a-tête. Unseen, he came to stand behind a small group of adults who also seemed to be regarding the fiendish pair of angelically attractive brunettes. Amongst the group was Lydia Devereaux, Nate's parents, Blair's mother and Chuck's father, who had his arm around the latest Victoria's Secret model.

"Your daughter is utterly charming," Mrs Devereaux informed a delighted Eleanor.

"Indeed, she is," the Captain, red-faced from too many whiskeys, crowed exuberantly. "We can't wait for the day she joins our family, can we dear?" he turned to his wife. Nate's mother made a half-sympathetic, half-shushing sound.

"Ah, then you are the father of her delightful companion! That Chuck is very naughty, but so dreadfully amusing," Mrs Devereaux beamed benevolently.

Nate's father looked confused, then mortified.

"Actually, I am the father of Charles," Bart said silkily, wearing a smirk not unlike his son's.

"Charles is a good friend of Nate's, Blair's boyfriend," Eleanor explained hastily, as the Captain continued to look affronted.

"Oh, yes, I believe I did see him with them earlier," Mrs Devereaux said in a distant, uncertain tone that seemed to indicate that she had just barely noticed Nathaniel and hadn't been much impressed with him.

"Nate and Blair have been dating for over ten years," an offended Captain clarified icily. He wanted to make it perfectly apparent to everyone present that Eleanor Waldorf's daughter's future lay with _his _son. His own future might well depend upon it.

"Yet it is an easy mistake to make," a gloating Bart put in drily. "Chuck and Blair do spend so much time together." With this he turned appraising eyes on his son, who had evidently just said something to make the ravishingly pretty Waldorf heiress laugh.

Nate did not for one minute like the half-satisfied, half-speculating look on the face of Bart Bass.

Mrs Devereaux nodded vigorously. "Yes, one can sense instantly the rapport between them, how at ease they are in each other's company. Listening to them talk is like watching a pair of dancers perform – the way they gracefully work together, each always anticipating and responding to the other's moves. These days I often find young people's chatter quite tedious. But I wasn't bored for a minute listening to those two."

While the normally dour Bart looking positively gleeful, Nate's father looked apoplectic. Just as Eleanor was trying to move the conversation on to a less contentious topic, music began to play and couples began to dance.

The group and Nate watched as Chuck lazily drew Blair into his arms and began to twirl her round the room. Years of shared dance classes meant they moved together far more naturally and with greater finesse than anyone else in the room.

But practice couldn't explain the evident chemistry between the two as they swayed in a respectable yet undeniably close clinch, nor could it explain the light in their eyes as they gazed at each other, thought Bart craftily.

He decided to needle the Captain, who he had always disliked and distrusted, further.

"Well, I don't know about listening to them talk, but they certainly look like a couple when they dance together," he said to Mrs Devereaux loudly.

Nate sensed that if he didn't act soon his father would make a scene. So he quickly made his way up to Chuck and Blair and tapped his best friend on the shoulder.

"Mind if I cut in, man?" Nate asked with a smile.

Whatever feelings Chuck had at this request he managed, as always, to conceal them. "Of course, Nathaniel," he responded lazily, giving no indication of just how good it had felt to have Blair's body wrapped around his, or how at this moment he could have quite cheerfully have clobbered his best friend over the head and dragged Blair back – caveman style – to his room.

At the last minute before giving her up to Nathaniel, he did raise her hand to his lips in an uncharacteristic gesture to thank her for the dance.

Blair was startled but pleased. She was also gratified by the close attention Nathaniel paid to her for the rest of the night. Secretly though, she had to admit she had enjoyed the first half of the night in Chuck's company better than she had the second half in Nate's.

But looking down into Blair's smiling face, Nate knew he had nothing to worry about, no matter what Mrs Devereaux and Chuck's father seemed to think.

Yet for the rest of the party he couldn't help but notice how often the phrase 'Chuck and Blair' reached his ears from some random conversation. Amongst the cacophony of noise, it seemed to echo like an almost constant refrain.

People shouldn't say their names, Chuck and Blair, as though the pair have long since stopped being separate entities and formed some indissoluble institution, Nate decided. As though to talk about one without the other would be to speak of Bert without Ernie, Ben without Jerry or Romeo without Juliet.

Especially when no one ever said 'Nate and Blair' with the same sort of resonance.


	9. Chapter 9

If you catch them confessing their love to each other, it may well be that your best friend and girlfriend actually are...you know...in love with each other.

The Bass limo speeded along the highway at the end of the summer, away from the carefree beaches at the Hamptons, towards the UES and junior year.

Three teenagers lay sprawled on the back seat. Nate was listening to his iPod with his eyes closed and his feet up. It was impossible to tell if he was even awake.

On the far side from Nate sat Chuck, apparently engrossed in the Financial Times.

Between them, as ever, was Blair. Miffed that Nate preferred listening to his iPod to talking to her, Blair had chosen to go to sleep on the car ride home. Sometime during her nap her head had slipped onto Chuck's shoulder.

Chuck hadn't moved since Blair's head had rested against him. How could he concentrate on the price of the Dow when his senses were being assaulted by the sweet smell of Blair's hair? It was a scent both fresh and rich, created by what Chuck suspected was Sephora's rose and geranium shampoo. He should check on that with Dorota. Maybe he could buy Blair an entire collection of their line of luxury beauty products for her birthday. The price of such a purchase was definitely worth the intoxicating heaven he was enjoying at the moment.

But mixed into that heaven was a good dose of hell. Because he shouldn't be breathing in the smell of his best friend's girlfriend's shampoo like some lovesick teenager. He shouldn't be marvelling at how soft and warm her skin felt where it rested against his. He really, really shouldn't be fantasising about the things he would love to do to her in the back of this limo, if only Nate wasn't here.

Chuck mentally shook himself. This wasn't like him. Chuck Bass didn't do yearning. He simply took what he wanted, did whatever he desired.

With one exception, Chuck thought with a grimace. And that exception was a five-foot-four brunette with lips so red a man couldn't help but imagine doing wicked things to them.

So she was hot, Chuck reflected dismissively. Beautiful even. Manhattan was filled with hot, beautiful women, most of whom were only too eager to indulge Chuck's most lurid fantasies. He had no cause to regret the off-limit status of one little puritan princess.

It didn't matter how much she made him laugh. It didn't matter that she had an uncanny knack for always knowing exactly what he was thinking. It didn't matter that she had always been there for him, ever since they were kids. She wasn't for him.

And what the hell was a playboy like him wondering what to get a girl for her birthday, anyway? Especially when said birthday was months away? He probably wouldn't buy her anything at all, he thought mulishly. His presence at her annual party alone should be gift enough.

It was just that he was infatuated by the forbidden. The element of taboo surrounding Blair both because of who she was and who she was with, Chuck told himself sternly. Because even if Blair hadn't worshipped at Nate Archibald's feet since she was five years old, she still would have been beyond Chuck's reach. Blair was a quality girl, a respectable girl. A queen. A virgin.

Chuck's pulse raced faster with the thought as a familiar ache filled his groin. Christ, how could Nate not get on top of that? Didn't he feel the lure of Blair's innocence? Every time Chuck thought about it he just wanted to drag her onto his lap, clamp his mouth on hers and mark her as his own, like the conqueror of a new land. To violate her perfection.

Chuck imagined what it would be like to be Blair's first. Knowing Blair, she'd probably approach sex with the same fiery determination to succeed that she showed in every other aspect of life. That could be...quite interesting.

Chuck wondered if she would be eager to learn all the things about physical intimacy that he would be only too happy to teach her untutored body. Blair had proved a very attentive student when he'd given her lessons in the past, lessons on how to bring about the social destruction of common enemies...would she bring the same level of dedication to learning other pleasures?

Chuck envisaged the things he would teach Blair if she would let him. First of all, would be how to kiss. Nate never kissed her properly. It was always too restrained. Chuck would show her that a true kiss left you breathless, trembling with passion. Filled with an insane need to get as physically close to the other person as humanly possible.

Then he would teach her how to touch. To touch herself slowly, as she slid out of her clothes and exposed herself to his hungry gaze. To touch him – hesitantly, wantonly, animalistically – until there was no part of his body that she did not know. Then he would teach her to let him touch her – to stroke her, rub her, pinch her, lick her, suckle her – until she could bear it no longer.

Chuck imagined Blair on her knees in front of him in this very limo. In white lingerie – the colour of purity. But he'd teach her some very impure things.

Chuck didn't fight the erotic fantasies that began to teem inside his head. It was safe to indulge in them in the privacy of his own mind, he decided.

Then suddenly Blair was awake and stretching with feline grace, making the material of her top stretch taut across her breasts.

Chuck's eyes zeroed in on the sight.

Before Blair had time to recover from the dazed confusion of first awakening, Chuck laid the newspaper strategically over his lap.

To distract her from his predicament, he drawled, 'So Sleeping Beauty's finally awake? I'll be sending you the dry-cleaning bill for drooling all over my jacket by the way."

Blair glared at Chuck groggily. Then she grabbed his collar and pulled him into her so that their faces were only a hair's breadth apart. Chuck's heart stopped beating.

"Listen up Bass, I do not drool. Under any circumstances. And you will never tell ANYONE that I fell asleep on your shoulder."

"You might want to take it down a decibel, princess," Chuck whispered conspirationally. "Prince Charming is still napping." He motioned to Nate's recumbent form.

Blair let go of Chuck's collar, looking somewhat guilty.

"You are such an ass," she hissed furiously. Waking up had left Blair confused, and when Blair was confused she tended to lash out at whoever was in range. Chuck smirked at her.

"And only a week ago you told me you loved me," Chuck drawled.

Blair reddened. Trust Chuck to throw that moment of weakness back in her face. But two could play at that game.

"As I recall, Bass, I was not the one to say it first," Blair replied sharply.

"Only because you practically begged me to," Chuck scoffed.

And the white elephant that had been living with them for the past few days was finally acknowledged.

Along with most of their classmates, and indeed most of the Upper East Side, Chuck, Nate and Blair had decamped from Manhattan to the Hamptons right at the beginning of the summer.

All three had stayed at the Archibald's residence. Chuck's father did not own a house in the Hamptons, not believing in vacations. Blair's parents had sold their vacation home as part of the upcoming divorce settlement.

It had promised to be a truly halcyon summer. And for a few weeks it had been. Nate paid attention to Blair and she was the envy of the other bikini-clad beach-loving socialites. Chuck had chased girls, and more often than not, caught them. Nate had seemed more contented, happy to hang out with his girlfriend and best friend. They had simply had fun, and the awkward moments and unwanted emotions of the past year seemed to have been suppressed.

Then Kati had decided to throw a big beach bash at her parents' house when they had had to return the city for the night. It had turned into a true all-night rager. In the early hours of the morning someone had suggested skinny-dipping on the private beach.

Some of the partygoers were all for it, others were more reluctant.

Nate had pointed out that it would be pretty cold in the water at that time of night and he wasn't about to freeze his ass off. Is and Kati had laughed and said he was chicken.

Chuck had of course said he would not be as ungallant as his best friend and would be happy to escort any naked lady who wished to go into the water. Or anywhere else for that matter.

Nate had persisted that it was a bad idea.

Then Blair had shocked the life out of Chuck by unzipping her short summer dress so that she was clad only in bra and panties. And then she quickly kissed her boyfriend on the lips in unmistakeable invitation and told him not to be a spoilsport.

The neutral feelings Chuck had been trying so hard to maintain about Blair and her relationship with Nate collapsed. He could see clearly how the chain of events would unfold. Nate would take Blair's hand and lead her into the water. After swimming together au natural they would return to the house, passions inflamed. Then Blair's virginity would be a thing of the past.

Chuck wasn't quite sure how he felt about that, but it was definitely not neutral.

But instead Nate just shook his head at Blair. He was going to go crash on Kati's couch.

Just for a second Chuck caught the look of hurt and disappointment on Blair's face, before it was replaced with one of determination.

"So are we going to do this thing, or what?" she asked as she turned back to the group.

"You know a real skinny-dip requires that you lose the underwear?" Chuck had drawled. He found it hard to believe that the prim and proper Queen of Constance was amenable to swimming naked with a mixed group of half a dozen of their classmates.

"You know me Chuck," she had said, looking right into his eyes in way that made his pulse race, "I never back down from a dare." Then she had led the way down to the beach.

During the short walk down to the beach Chuck's opinion on the advisability of a midnight skinny-dip had started to shift.

All sorts of possibilities started to form in his head. They never would have occurred to him in relation to his own - or anyone else's - safety. But now he realised Blair would be joining in the escapade they were making him increasingly anxious.

It was dark and they were drunk. It would be easy for someone to get into trouble in the water, to drown even, without anyone noticing. And Chuck had heard that sharks came closer to the shore at night. For all they knew the ocean could be teeming with them. And the water would be cold.

And Blair was still so thin, even after getting over her 'problem'. She would feel the cold much worse.

"Blair, wait," he began to call out.

But before he could catch up to her, she was already stripping off.

He only caught a glimpse of her before she was submerged in water. But that glimpse was enough to make him momentarily forget he ever even had a friend called Nate Archibald.

He made his way into the water with the others, most of who were laughing and giggling with each other. Chuck, however, was completely focused on Blair, who was floating a little further out.

She was staring up at the moonlight, seemingly lost in her own thoughts, a wry smile on her face.

"You are..." Chuck paused, searching for an adjective that adequately expressed how in awe he was of Blair Waldorf. "Amazing, you know Waldorf?"

Blair smiled sardonically. "I sometimes think you're the only one who knows that Bass."

"Nate doesn't know how to have a good time."

"Unlike you."

"Unlike you," Chuck corrected.

Blair stopped staring at the moon and turned to Chuck.

"Some people think I'm no fun."

"Some people think veganism gives them psychic powers."

"Serena was the fun one."

"Not to me."

"You don't think I'm some prissy Stepford teen who always has to colour inside the lines?"

Chuck moved closer to Blair, dropping his voice to a confidential whisper. "Waldorf, if you were really a girl like that you wouldn't be so naked right now."

Blair looked down at her body in surprise, as if she hadn't realised it's unclothed state. In the dark and under the water nothing much was visible, just the vague shape and colour of flawless ivory skin.

Blair then turned her attention to Chuck's body, realising that he was also undressed. She could see his chest and his arms. His arms were not as muscular as Nate's but they looked strong and solid and Blair suddenly wanted to run her fingers along them. His chest hair was sticking out in different directions and Blair wondered if she could get it lie flat using her tongue. She could probably use her tongue on his nipples too, which at the moment seemed rock hard from the cold or something...

Blair froze as the realisation dawned on her.

"I'm drunk," she whispered in horror.

Chuck grinned. "Endearingly so."

"You have to help me," she hissed, gripping his arm.

"Are you talking about the kind of 'help' that's going to cause problems between me and my best friend?" Chuck whispered back, wondering what he would do if she said yes.

Blair slapped his arm.

"Ow," he swore, rubbing his arm. "What is this help you need?"

"I need you to get me back onto the beach and into my clothes without anyone seeing me naked."

"Any idea how I should go about achieving this mission impossible?"

"No. I'm drunk, remember?"

Chuck thought for a minute. Truthfully, he didn't really want the other guys in the water, some lame-brain guys from Nate's soccer team, ogling Blair when she got out of the water either.

"It's simple," he told her. "You just have to stay in the water until everyone else has got out and gone back to the house."

"But I'm already getting c-cold," Blair whimpered.

Chuck cursed. "Well, they will be too then," he said. But he speeded up the exit of Is and Kati from the ocean, and consequently the rest of the guys, with some obnoxious underwater tickling and threatened drownings.

After Blair forced Chuck to keep his eyes closed while she got out and put her clothes back on, he helped her get back to her room on wobbly legs. It was a strange role reversal – normally it was her taking care of him after he'd got intoxicated at a party.

"Do you really think I'm fun?" Blair asked they reached her door. His arm had been wrapped around her stomach to steady her and when she turned back to face him her mouth was only inches from his.

He looked into her eyes. "Sweetheart, you're so much fun that I just know you can't be good for me."

Blair arched her eyebrows. "You love things that aren't good for you," she whispered huskily.

"Yes," Chuck murmured as his mouth descended to hers.

"You guys are back," Nate said congenially as he opened the door from his room. "You both better get to bed and get some sleep. You're going to be feeling pretty sick a couple of hours from now."

Blair was already turning the handle to the door and disappearing into her room.

The next day Nate's prediction proved to be correct. Chuck had a massive hangover. Blair's hangover seemed to be compounded by a case of the flu, brought on by her late night swim.

She lay groaning under her pillow when Chuck visited her with a morning pick-me-up.

"I better go get Nate. Tell him you won't be heading to the beach anytime soon," Chuck said.

Just then Nate knocked on the door. "Don't let him in," Blair hissed, just as Chuck was about to say "Come in."

"Why?" Chuck asked Blair.

"I don't want him to see me all snotty and blotchy."

"Oh right. I forgot that I'm the only one who has that privilege." Chuck moved towards the door before Blair had a chance to smack him with her pillow.

He and Nate had a hushed conversation outside.

"He's calling the doctor," Chuck informed Blair a few minutes later. "He says that his going to cancel the game of gold he had scheduled with his dad to stay here and nurse you."

Blair groaned again. "I don't want him to stay here with me."

"You're face really isn't _that _blotchy."

"It's not that. He'll be all annoyingly superior and smug about being right about skinny-dipping being a bad idea. I don't want to put up with his 'I told you so' attitude all day. It would retard my recovery weeks."

Chuck smirked. "I'll see what I can do."

Half an hour later he re-appeared with some plain toast and the news that Nate had been dispatched to play golf with his dad. Chuck had opted to stay home. It was to nurse his hangover, not Blair, Chuck insisted to himself.

Nevertheless, he spent the next several days at home with her as she continued to feel sick.

It was only fair Blair said, pointing out that she'd kept him company when he was ill countless times.

Actually, when he was sick she was usually the one who nursed him.

It was another one of those things Blair was prompted to do after realising Chuck didn't have a mother to do it for him.

The news would go out on gossip girl that he had been struck down with a cold or mumps or VD or whatever, and next thing he knew she'd appear in his room with Dorota-made chicken soup, a cold compress, movies to watch and gossip to share.

So he did not mind keeping her company this once.

He only freaked out when a week later Blair was still listless and her fever suddenly soared. The doctor was again sent for.

"I'm going to put her on some medicine," Dr Lara Koster told him. "It will bring her fever down but it's going to make her a little woozy. The effect should be pretty immediate." She told Chuck how much to give Blair and when, and watched as he poured out her first dosage.

"You could be a nurse," teased Dr Koster, as he persuaded Blair to swallow the noxious smelling medicine. "You're very lucky to have such a good friend to take care of you," she said to Blair.

Blair scrunched up her nose. "I'm his honey," Blair said importantly, pinching Chuck's cheek. "Aren't I?"

"I guess the wooziness is kicking in," Chuck observed as he removed Blair's fingers from his face.

"I'll leave you to it," Koster concluded.

"Mmmm," Blair murmured a few minutes later, squirming distractingly around on the bed. "I feel wonderful. I'm much better already." She kept shifting around, making the bed clothes bunch up and the straps of her nightgown fall down.

"You need to get some sleep."

"Not until you admit that I'm you're honey," Blair chided, the effects of the medicine obviously making her garrulous.

"You're my honey," Chuck went along with it, tucking her back into bed.

"And you love me to bits," Blair challenged.

Chuck hesitated. "You don't need any more love. The whole world loves you."

Blair pouted. "Say it."

"Why?"

There was a pause as Blair appeared to think hard about this question. "Because out of the whole world you're who I most want to hear it from," she said finally.

"I love you to bits."

Blair smiled angelically. "I love you to bits too. I love you better than Serena, and Daddy, and..." Then she fell into a drug-induced sleep that lasted four days.

Back in the car, Chuck coolly regarded Blair.

"Did you mean it?" she asked.

This was not what he had expected her to say. He had thought she would laugh it off, say she'd been sick and rambling.

He didn't make himself vulnerable though. "Did you?" he returned.

"You're one of my best friends," Blair said, rolling her eyes. "Of course, I love you."

Chuck grinned. "In that case I adore you – from the top of your head-banded head to the tip of your stocking-clad feet. Even when you're drunk or sick. Actually, maybe especially then."

Blair gave Chuck a shove and he pushed her back, the movement prompting Nate to finally pull off his headphones.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Nothing," Chuck laughed as Blair hit him again. "Just your girlfriend telling me how much she loves me."


	10. Chapter 10

It should be obvious to everyone involved that your best friend and girlfriend are meant for each other if they find themselves doing everything possible to get over each other.

Chuck did not realise it until the night of the Waldorf party, the night Serena came back to town. He was sitting on the couch between Kati and Iz, assessing the talent in the room with the girls' help.

"How about the trophy wife in the Marc Jacobs?" Iz asked.

"Too commercial," Chuck replied. "I like a woman with a certain je ne sais quoi."

"Ooh, what about the hottie sipping the sex on the beach?" Kati giggled.

"She's about as common as her drink. And her teeth are too big."

"Wow, you may actually have run out of women in Manhattan to sleep with," Iz quipped. "You'll have to start flying them in from out of town."

"No, wait, I see one," Kati said excitedly. "Brunette in the corner. She's exactly your type."

Chuck turned to take in his potential prey. She is indeed beautiful. She is ivory-skinned, fragile-looking, with long, dark tresses and haunting brown eyes. She is Blair.

Not literally, of course, but in 'type' definitely. Suddenly Chuck felt irrationally angry with his companions. "Chuck Bass does not have a type," he murmured coolly. "I'm an equal opportunity player."

"Well, sure, you've had admirably diverse tastes," Iz gibed. "Eskimos, Australians, crazy red-heads, that guy from the Village..."

"Hey, at first I thought he was a female," Chuck interrupted.

"But you've always shown a proclivity for a certain type of girl," Iz carried on.

When Chuck continues to stare at her with bland disbelief, she spells it out for him. "You know, the chic brunette 'don't touch me' type," Iz finishes.

"Yeah, especially lately," Kati added thoughtfully. "There was that waitress at Butter last week, that haughty coat check girl at the white party...ooh, that bitch from Chapin..."

"Well, there's no need to continue the trend," Chuck cuts in acerbically. "Variety is the spice of life."

Years of practice at hiding his true emotions allow him to keep his voice level, his face detached. Inwardly though he is panic-stricken as his mind runs over all the faux-Blairs he has slept with in recent weeks.

Thank God, Kati and Iz are too shallow and self-involved to have made the connection, and have not guessed the reason behind his little penchant. But had Nate noticed? Had Blair? Since neither had been acting weird around him he could only presume they hadn't.

He felt sick inside, realising that he is so obsessed with Blair he had been subconsciously seeking out nightly substitutes with which to work out his frustrations. And the sad part is that it isn't helping. Not even a little.

With all that immersion therapy Chuck should be heartily sick of that Blair 'type', should be scouting the room for her exact opposite. But he now realised that the real reasons he had rejected the flirtatious looks of several women earlier was because their hair had been a shade lighter than Blair's, or their skin a shade darker...

It wasn't healthy.

It was even more pathetic that when Blair came around the corner, clinging to Nate's arm like a limpet a few minutes later, Chuck felt himself involuntarily smiling at her, like she had just made his entire day. While his attention was wholly absorbed by Blair, he covered for this by directing his comment at Nate, inviting him outside for some 'fresh air'.

Chuck knew part of the reason he made the offer was because he wanted to separate Nate from Blair, albeit temporarily. Yet somehow he managed to keep his smile in place as Nate refused, and Blair put in some flirtatious comment that indicated exactly why she was leading his best friend away.

Tonight was the night.

Blair had implied that she was getting ready to give it up to the golden boy the last time they had spoken.

Blair had made the decision to finally have sex with Nate the day she caught herself staring at the vee in Chuck's polo shirt, completely fascinated by the sight of the few dark chest hairs in view. If asked she would have said she preferred a guy with a smooth, muscled chest (like Nate's). There was something tantalising though about the idea of running her fingers across Chuck's chest.

Catching herself in the midst of this traitorous thought, Blair realised her hormones must have built up to dangerous levels. She had figured that kind of thing mostly happened to guys – had certainly never thought she would develop such an excess of hormones that it would lead her to these wild fantasies and involuntary physical responses – but obviously it had. And something would have to be done about it.

Sleeping with Nate would surely cure her of these strange new 'urges'. She would just have to find an opportunity to approach him.

The prospect made Blair nervous. It helped knowing that Nate was a virgin too, and therefore hopefully would not have too many expectations of her, but she was still terrified that she would do something wrong, or it would turn out that she was lousy in bed. In other situations, when confronted by her fear of failure, Blair would carefully plan a strategy to ensure her success.

But in this situation Blair had no one with whom to strategise. She could talk to Kati and Iz, who had plenty of sexual experience, but she could not appear weak in front of the minions. Allowing them to become too intimate would diminish their awe of her. If Serena had been around, and Blair had not been mad at her, Blair probably would have asked her advice. If she had managed to ignore her niggling awareness of Nate's crush on her best friend. Talking to her mother was completely out of the question. And she wasn't really comfortable bringing it up with Nate himself.

That really only left one person. Blair wasn't thrilled about talking about _this_ with _him_ either, but figured she could go about it in a kind of indirect way.

She had broached the topic the previous Sunday, when he had brought over coffee and croissants for their Audrey marathon. She had opted for _Breakfast at Tiffanys_, not only because it was her favourite, but because she figured it would give her plenty of opportunity to raise the subject of sex, given that the main character was a call girl.

She did not work up the courage to initiate the discussion until a good way into the movie, when Doc Golightly appeared on the screen.

"Ugh, can you imagine being married to an old man like that at thirteen," Blair shuddered.

"I can't imagine being married to him at any age, actually," Chuck drawled, eyes focused on the movie.

"But having to share a bed with him, especially her first time, it would be horrible, wouldn't it?" Blair prompted wildly, wondering how she was going to move the conversation round to what she really wanted to know.

"Oh, I don't know," Chuck drawled idly. "There are benefits to experience, you know Waldorf," he gave her his trademark leer. "Especially when it's your first time."

"Please tell me no one has ever fallen for that line," Blair wrinkled her nose in mock distaste.

Chuck laughed. "No comment. But it happens to be the truth. No one – girls I mean – enjoys their first time, but at least if the guy knows what he's doing it doesn't have to be a total train wreck."

Blair sat in stunned silence for a few minutes as Chuck returned to watching the movie. She thought it would be so romantic, her and Nate being each other's firsts, but now she was terrified. With neither one of them knowing what they were doing, were they doomed to be a train wreck? She wanted to enjoy her first time. She decided that she would just have to be an exception to Chuck's rule.

But to do that, she needed to know more about what it was she was actually supposed to do. What would turn Nate on. She had read the relevant literature in Cosmo and Cleo of course, but she wanted to hear it from a source she could absolutely trust.

As they watched Holly and Paul visit a strip club, Blair decided to make another stab at it.

"So do guys really like that?" Blair blurted out. "When girls strip I mean," she persisted when Chuck looked at her in surprised enquiry.

"Well, I don't think guys keep going to strip clubs for the quality of the food or the over-priced drinks," Chuck pronounced mockingly.

"But do they prefer watching a girl taking off her clothes to say, her appearing suddenly naked? Or given the choice would they prefer to take her clothes off themselves?"

(The issue of how to get to the naked stage had been bothering Blair quite a bit. She couldn't imagine stripping off before Nate, couldn't imagine being able to take off her clothes and look him in the eye at the same time. She had thought perhaps she could solve the problem by simply turning up to his room naked, but what if that was a turn-off? What if the whole slow erotic strip thing was somehow crucial to building the sexual tension?)

Chuck scrutinised Blair carefully. "Is there a purpose to this line of questioning Waldorf?"

Blair smiled sweetly. "I simply have an enquiring mind. You should know that by now Bass."

"But I'm sensing there may be something behind this particular inquiry." His eyes were still trained on her face with laser-like intensity.

"Just wanting to satisfy my curiosity. So are you going to answer my question, or not?"

Chuck studied Blair a moment. "You know I'm always ready to satisfy your curiosity, princess." It sounded distinctly like an invitation.

"Basically, if a guy gets to see a girl naked he doesn't much care how she gets that way. But there is something sexy about watching a girl undress herself for you, slowly revealing herself for your...pleasure. I think it has something to do with the self-confidence it shows," Chuck paused. "For instance, I like it if a girl maintains eye contact with me while she takes her clothes off."

Blair silently gulped at the way Chuck's voice lowered at this last revealing comment. She tried to convince herself that there hadn't been a part of tiny part of her brain that had picked up on this final remark as information to be carefully stored away.

"You know, for a price, I would be happy to let you practise on me," Chuck broke into her reverie about what it would be like to strip off for him, slowly removing her clothing one item at a time, maybe sashaying to some background music.

"What are you talking about?" Blair said non-intelligently.

"I'm guessing you're finally prepared to relinquish the pricey V-card to Nate, but are worried about disappointing him. So I'm graciously offering my services. I could train you up for the big event. Provided I got something in return of course. A favour, or an IOU of some kind." Chuck raised his eyebrow suggestively.

Even though he knew she'd never agree, Chuck allowed himself to indulge in this little fantasy. He would be rigorous in his teaching. And he knew exactly the kind of payment he would eventually exact.

There was a split second before Blair responded to his little scheme.

"Ugh, you're absolutely disgusting. I can't believe I let people know that we're friends," she pretended disdain, punching his arm for emphasis, although her cheeks were becoming warm and flushed at the thought of being Chuck's 'student'.

Chuck laughed and broke off a piece of pain au chocolate, popping some into her mouth and some into his. They lapsed into silence during the rest of the movie. But as Chuck was leaving, he gave her an unexpected quick kiss on the forehead. "You have nothing to worry about, Waldorf. You could never disappoint anyone, ever." Then he had hurriedly left.

Continuing nervousness meant Blair had not acted on her decision to sleep with Nate until she was finally propelled into action the night of the party by rumours of Serena's surprise return. She was determined to overcome the ghosts that haunted her relationship with Nate. Both of them. But it didn't quite work out.

Chuck had known exactly why Blair and Nate had disappeared into her room. It had made him feel sort of disconnected, somehow hollow. Then when Blair and Nate had quickly re-appeared to greet Serena, it was like he had once more come awake.

But he knew it was only temporary. Nate and Blair would eventually sleep together. It was inevitable. And even if Nate succumbed to his continuing doubts about the relationship and ended things with Blair, Chuck's fantasies about her would remain just that. Fantasies. Because Blair did not belong with a guy like him. And he didn't belong with anyone.

So he came up with a plan of his own. He had to quit having sex with assembly-line Blairs. Instead, he needed to have sex with someone who was her complete opposite. A blonde, maybe. It was the only way to prove to his body that one girl was just like any other.

A few nights later, Chuck was ruminating on the lack of success he had so far had with his plan as he sat in the bar of the Palace. His ruminations were somewhat impeded by the dangerous amount he had had to drink.

He had been hitting on non-Blair-like girls all night without luck. Perhaps the alcohol was hampering his charms. Perhaps they could sense the slight edge of desperation in his efforts. Or perhaps it was because his heart really wasn't in the chase, especially after he saw Blair come in, wearing his favourite shade of bright red lipstick.

It was a very distracting sight.

Chuck shook his head, trying to focus. He couldn't let himself dwell on those lips. It was pointless to fantasise about what he'd like them to do to him. And it made him feel sick to think about what they were going to be doing later.

He knew Nate was going to Blair's tonight. Part of him really wanted them to just get it over with, so maybe he could start getting on with his life. But in the meantime he was going to need a distraction. Preferably, one who was unmistakeably as unlike Blair as possible. Indulging his imagination had got him nowhere.

He didn't even have to like her very much. And on the whole he would prefer it if she did not like him. In his current state he had neither the mood nor the patience for gentleness. And any tenderness or affection would be too close a reminder of what he (in the most secret part of his soul) hoped he might find with Blair.

It was in the midst of these musings that Chuck's eyes lit upon Serena Van Der Woodsen. Blair's best friend. The girl she had met up with at the bar before her departure into the night to do the things that were churning up Chuck's insides. Blair's complete opposite.

With her wildly unstyled hair, 'natural' makeup and with the way she was attacking the vodka that had been set before her, Serena's unrestrained sex appeal was miles apart from Blair's cool, put-together beauty. Chuck knew that most guys, including his own best friend, preferred Serena's more obvious attractions.

But while Serena was undeniably sexy, Chuck had always felt that she was too light-hearted and bubbly to ever be the subject of a really deep, intense passion, the kind he believed Blair was capable of surrendering herself to.

He had told Nate on their way to school that Serena had looked effing hot at the Waldorf party. He had said it partly to try to draw his friend, although he also knew it to be true. But when he had said that she had the kind of perfection that needed to be violated, the truth was he had not been thinking about Serena at all.

It was not Serena that he wanted to violate.

But wouldn't it be a lovely touch of irony if he was to violate Nate's dream girl on the very same night that Nate slept with the only girl Chuck had ever regarded as the epitome of female perfection?

So he had approached her with his trademark Chuck Bass leer.

He had not meant to force her. Or maybe he had. He was drunk and desperate and bleak and maybe he just wanted her to hate him as much as he hated himself. After Serena had fought him off, he had downed a final triple shot of scotch and passed out.

He was so drunk he slept right through a dozen of Blair's calls later that night, when she was bewildered and sobbing and seeking comfort after finally finding out the truth from Nate and ending things with him.

If she had reached him, things might have been different.

But she didn't. Nate's parental deference and Blair's low self-worth conspired to ensure their reunion just a few hours later.

So the night of the Kiss on the Lips party Chuck was still on the prowl for a non-Blair.

The blonde freshman he had lured onto the roof was distinctly un-Blair. He could not remember her name. It had been something ordinary and prosaic, to match her pretty but ordinary face and her conventional, bland conversational skills. Actually, nothing much about her was making an impression on him, and that was about as un-Blair as he was going to get. Which was exactly what he wanted, of course.

Her brother had made a much stronger impression on him. Left it, in fact, on the side of his face.

He was really beginning to hate blondes.

It was poetic then that he should end the night with the brunette he had been trying to avoid.

"She better not show her face again," Blair announced to him, as he joined her in watching Serena's departure, signature scarf to his bloody nose. Blair felt the sentiment of her words even more strongly as she took in what Serena's latest hobby had done to Chuck's face.

"I'm kind of hoping she does," Chuck replied contemptuously. If she did, then Blair would act against her. And he would help.

Blair gave him one of her special smiles.

This was them at their best. This was what they were meant to be. Friends, plotting partners...and something more. Perhaps twin souls that shared the same peculiar intensities. So thought Nathaniel as he indifferently watched their exchange from the distance, swallowing down the rest of his beer.

_The End._


End file.
